Two Years
by Krier
Summary: This contains Johnlock (John x Sherlock). It has been Two Years since Sherlock's suicide and on one rainy night, guess who shows up again on the door step of 221B? John is in for a surprise with Sherlock's sudden appearance and apology. Also, I am sure this sort of story has been written before so please forgive me if it seems similar to anything!


This is my first ever Johnlock fan fiction, inspired by a roleplay between a friend of mine. I found it rather interesting for a Johnlock Fan Fiction especially for a small spin-off from Sherlock's suicide and an apology for what Sherlock had done to John. Well... I just hope you guys enjoy it ^^'

The rain created a misted look over the life-filled London, descending droplets shimmering like minuscule jewels in the headlights of cars. People skittered over the wet pavement up and down, heads bowed and shoulders hunched against the downpour, obviously eager to return home. John, however, looked out over London, dull eyes expressing an inner drag and pain that still gnawed at his heart. It had been two years since Sherlock had committed his suicide. Two years he had been without his best friend. Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to let him stay here in 221B, a place he seemed he never wanted to leave in his entire life. Despite the pain it caused him, he had kept everything the way it was. Sherlock's stuff still remained untouched, gathering dust where they sat. Mrs. Hudson had figured it was from suffering from a broken heart. John sighed audibly, leaning forward in the cushioned chair, pressing his palms against his forehead.

The address flickered gold in the beams of the vehicles, reading 221B. A large umbrella protected his head from the rain and sheiled his features from the wandering gaze of passerby's while he stood there, a ghost among the shuffling bodies in the dark and wet night. He reached forward with long spindle fingers, gripping the knob slowly as though hesitant in his action. Never had he been hesitant before, but this... He had a reason to be. The man lifted his chin, untucking his defined features from the scarf that hung around his neck, revealing the unchanged complexion of the deceased man - Sherlock Holmes. The same Sherlock that was known as 'alive' two years before. He opened the door to the flats, taking a step inside and closing the umbrella, sending droplets splattering over the hardwood floor. He discarded it silently, averting his gaze up the stair case that hung with a lonely atmosphere in the dark corridor. His eyes flickered, ascending the stairs with quiet steps.

He reached his old flat, pausing outside of the door as a flicker of lightning lit up the small hallway. He pressed his lips together, lifting his head, balling his hand into a fist as he gingerly knocked against the wood. Knock, knock, knock.

John lifted his head leisurely from his hands, squinting his eyes as he flashed a glance towards the door. Who was knocking? It was most likely Mrs. Hudson. Hardly anyone else contacted him. Lestrade at some points to see how he was doing and to see if he wanted in on a case but John usually declined. He pushed himself up from the chair, taking his mug with him. He hesitated beside the seat, gazing unhappily at the door, wondering if it would be worth it to see who it was. He felt as though he needed to alone, away from everyone. Automatically, John lumbered towards the door, gripping the knob and opening it up to greet whoever it was. He froze to the spot, his grip slacking on his mug as it slid from his rough fingers and came to a loud crash against the floor broads. His mouth dropped open, his complexion fixed in complete shock. "Sh-Sherlock?"

Sherlock came face to face with John as his old friend opened the door, remaining completely stoic to John's reaction. He stepped forward, his long legs carrying him farther than a normal mans stride as he stepped into the more-than-familiar flat. Nothing was untouched of his. He could see this as he gazed about, eyes softening gently now that he was faced a way from John. "Sherlock!" He spun around to face the exclamation of his name, expecting to meet a hard punch to nose or the cheek. He deserved that much. He felt arms around him, hugging him close as John pulled Sherlock into a tight hug, burying his visage into his warm chest. Sherlock froze, completely taken by surprise by the sudden embrace. Wasn't John mad? Angry at him? It had been two years since Sherlock had faked his own suicide and left John here... With lies. "John...?," he whispered, looking down at him.

John held him close, gripping the back of Sherlock's coat, drinking in the scent and warmth that came from the mans tall yet masculine figure. "Sherlock...," he breathed, attempting to keep his voice from cracking yet he failed as his hug became tighter. As though from a dream, he felt the same grip around him, the raven-haired man holding him close. Sherlock let out a shaking breath, resting his chin gingerly upon John's head, feeling the short tresses tickle his skin. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment of holding him close, his fingers slowly finding their way up to the back of John's head. He smiled faintly, fingers digging into John's scalp as he used less than half of his might to jerk his head back, hearing a much earned gasp from the shorter man.

"What are you doing!," John gaped starring up at Sherlock as he reopened his gaze which seemed almost apologetic and gentle. A rare sight John had never seen before. What had gotten into him? Was this his same Sherlock? He pressed his palms against Sherlock's torso, his attempt to push away a failure as the hand at his hair kept him still and the arm around his waist. Suddenly Sherlock's lips were upon his, gingerly forming the kiss into the shape of his gruff lips. His eyes widened in utter shock yet his body relaxed, slacking against Sherlock's physique as he was pulled closer. He let out a groan of complaint yet it faded off into silence as his eyes rolled closed.

Sherlock held John there, head bent as he pressed his lips against the blondes in a passionate kiss, tightening John to his lean body at the first detection of him falling into the contact. This was his apology... For leaving him without so many answers and pain two years prior up to this day and this moment. Hands gingerly scaled his chest, John's finger tips gliding like gentle nips over the skin of his neck, leaving a tingly sensation. He leaned forward, deepening the passion within the kiss as he gripped John's locks tighter, this time John gasping against his mouth. He let himself have the joy of another faint smile, slipping his tongue past the other man's teeth in that exact moment, forming the sharp exhale into a low yet surprised moan.

A shiver ran up his spine, entwining his fingers in the back curls of the Detective, holding his lips to him as he allowed Sherlock to explore the inside of his mouth. He allowed another moan to escape past the kiss, meeting his tongue as though to fight for dominance in the contact. Sherlock responded by pulling his head all the way back, breaking the kiss as he starred down into John's widened eyes. John breathed in small pants, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks as Sherlock bowed his head once more brushed his lips gingerly against Johns. Teasing him. "I hope... That was a good enough of an apology?," Sherlock muttered, his voice holding no note of the passion that had just unraveled between the two but his icy blue-green gaze held the soft, intimate, and dominant spark of it all. For a moment, John had forgotten all about what Sherlock was apologizing for, starring up at him in utter disbelief and longing for another kiss.

Until he remembered He broke away from Sherlock suddenly, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, teeth clenching together. What the hell had just happened! He sucked in an a breath, trying to make sense of the situation yet anything that he drove into his mind was swept away by one excuse. That it had somehow felt right. Right... To kiss the raven-haired man. To let him take over like that. John blushed once more, eyes flashing open as he realized what he was thinking, looking up at Sherlock, the warmth deepening. "I... I am still mad at you!," he muttered, nose scrunching at he glared at him yet the glare faltered as Sherlock took a step forward.

"I know, John... I know...," Sherlock murmured, brushing his knuckles underneath the mans chin in response, ignoring the fact that John seemed a bit... Confused and frustrated. "Just let me make it right... Please? I should have never done what I did." This time it was Sherlock's turn to be surprised as John closed the gap between them, locking Sherlock back into a deep kiss. Longing and passionate all the same. Sherlock remained frozen as John drew back, resting his forehead against his. "You will be able to make it right... Just stay with me to the end this time... Alright? To the true end," John whispered.


End file.
